Eye of the Beholder
by secret-of-avalon
Summary: He was close to death. It was in her nature to help.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine.**This is my first attempt at a Hermione/Snape relationship, so please bare with me, and please tell me what you think.

* * *

Two o'clock, the morning of July 16th found a twenty year old Hermione Granger reading on the couch of number 12 Grimmwald Place, while everyone else in the house slept.**

Six months ago her best friend Harry Potter had killed the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. It was the second war against the mad man, the first having took place when Harry was only one, when he defeated, but did not kill, Voldemort.

Both wars had many casualties; the first took Harry's parents along with many other witches and wizards, and Muggles as well. The second took her own. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had died a month before Voldemort was overthrown, and Hermione was still getting over it.

As a matter of fact, that was what she had been doing this very night when her friends had all decided to go out to dinner. She had been particularly upset this night, reliving every moment she had spent with her parents, properly grieving for them for the first time since they had died. She had been too busy before.

At the age of 20 she had become a certified Potion's Mistress as well as a Charms Professor, and now, she was working on earning her Transfiguration degree. To pay for her secondary magical education, Hermione worked as a teacher, home-schooling many different children across Europe and America as well. Up until that night, her job and her studies had kept her mind off of the fate of her parents.

She had broken down in the middle of the afternoon, and decided not to go with her friends to dinner, urging them to go without her. When they finally gave in, realizing how stubborn she was and knowing that they couldn't win an argument with her, they left to her emotions.

Eventually she cried herself to sleep, only waking when everyone came crashing through the front door of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, where she was still staying, were they where all still staying.

The crash of the door hitting the wall made her sit straight up and rush down the stairs to see what had happened. She found all of them, the Weasleys, Harry, Remus, Tonks and even Kingsly Shaklebolt, staggering in through the open door. They were all quite wobbly and none of them had the right color.

She had shrieked and rushed over to them, demanding to know exactly what had happened.

"Calm down Hermione," Harry had told her, "We're all fine, just a bit tired. There was a fight at the restaurant, some jumped up Italian mobsters, and when we tried to break it up we were hit with some of the curses."

"But you're all hurt!" she had protested, "You can't tell me that it was all from one fight!"

"You're right 'Mione, it wasn't just one fight," Ron interrupted. "Once the first one broke out the whole place felt the need to kill each other, so there were a lot of fights. And we were in the middle of all of them."

"But we're all just fine dear," Mrs. Weasley said before Hermione could answer Ron. "We just need to rest; we'll be alright in the morning." Hermione had just nodded her head, speechless as she watched them ascend the steps up to their rooms.

That had been four hours ago.

Since then she found that she couldn't go back to sleep, and not wanting to dwell on thoughts of her parents any longer, she had decided to take a shower, hoping that the running water would take away all of her problems as it flowed down her body. No such luck.

Upon finding that the shower did not work, Hermione turned to the only thing she knew would: a book.

She had plodded down the creaky old steps into the kitchen to make herself some tea, and then proceeded into the living room off of the main hall of the house.

She spent the first few moments down there making herself comfortable, and the next admiring how much they had changed the dirty old house. After five years of inhabitants it was now doxy and boggart free, as well as well lit. They had cleaned up all the dust and dirt, throwing away the old curtains rugs that refused to give up years of dust and grime. They had placed new candle on all of the walls, having taken down all of the past house elves' heads. They had even given it a new paint job. All in all, it now a much more cheery place to live.

When she finally settled down to read, it was forty-five minutes after she got down there. She nestled herself into the corner of the couch, leaning her back against the arm with a pillow between them.

She had been reading for an hour when she heard the door bang open for the second time that night.

* * *

Severus Snape stumbled up the steps to Number 12 Girmmwald Place his normally billowing black robes clinging to his body, but not because it was raining.

That evening he had made a trip to Diagon Alley to refill his potion supplies. He had owled ahead, telling the store owner what he need and was assured that it would all be ready for him at seven o'clock. So he had gone to get them.

He had on his ever present black robes and his wand was shoved into on of his pockets when he walked through the Leaky Cauldron to get into the magical alley. On his way to the potions supply shop, he had been pulled roughly into a side alley.

He was outraged.

He was Severus Snape, the most feared professor at Hogwarts! Who could dare to attempt to hurt him! But there was just more than the attempt to hurt him in the eyes of more than one of his attackers.

He looked up, his arms bound by someone behind him, into cold grey eyes that he knew only two people in the world ever possessed, and one of them was now dead. The small gang that had pulled him so unceremoniously from the public eye was made up of many of his old students, many sons and daughters of now deceased, or captured, DeathEaters.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zambinni, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Marcus Flint and more, the thirst for his blood evident in their eyes.

Voldemort had discovered that he was a spy for the Order the same day he met his end. The battle that followed the discovery had killed him and many of his most faithful and loyal servants when the Order, in its entirety, had shown up, capturing those who had not died when the smoke cleared. Severus's attackers held him responsible for their now lack of parental figures.

They had beaten him horribly, thinking that they would get more satisfaction from hurting him with their bare hands/knives than they would with a simple spell, or had tried to. He had fought back, like any Slytherin would have done, but in the end there had been too many of them. His stomach was slashed in many different places and his back sported a long gash as well.

When they had finally let him go, thinking he was dead from blood loss, or would be soon, it was late into the night. He had lain there on the ground where they had left him, willing himself to move after entertaining thoughts of just dying there. In the end he had decided that would be playing into their hands, and he was never one to intentionally please others, apart from Dumbledore. So he had forced himself to stand. Forced himself to make his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Forced himself to walk down the muggle streets of London to Number 12 Grimmwald place, it having been unsafe for him to Apperate with his injuries and even more painful to have gotten ashes in them had he Flooed to old Black manor.

He finally reached his old enemy's house after hours of walking /crawling and resting. He made his way up the steps and threw the door open as well as he could, alerting anyone awake to his presence.

But once he stepped through the door his eyes met a sight that made his already ragged breath catch in his throat.

There, on the couch in a room right off of the hall he was now in, was Hermione Granger, her long hair framing her face and flowing down her chest, ending just beneath her breasts, catching and reflecting the light, glittering all shades of brown, from a light honey to a dark amber. She had a book in hand as usual and her head was up, looking at him, showing her smooth, pale neck.

Even in his current state he couldn't stop a line from one of his favorite songs to pop into his mind

_She's a Killer Queen_

And that was just what she was.

She really did look regal, sitting there with her head tilted like that. And he knew she was as deadly as she was beautiful, he had seen her in battle.

Yes, he called her 'mudblood' 'know-it-all' and a 'goodie-two-shoes', but the Gryffindor was beautiful. The truth was, he had thought about her like that for awhile now. Ever since he had had to have been present, along with his colleagues (other Potions Masters and Mistresses) from the counsel he had been on ever since he had earned his title, to award her with her certificate that told any who saw it that she was a qualified Potions Mistress, an extremely coveted position.

She had been with five others receiving the title of Master or Mistress that day, but she had to go first, because the ceremony that would give her the Masters in Charms that she had been working for since she had left Hogwarts as well started ten minutes after the Potions one did.

He remembered her outfit amazingly well, a white, flowing sundress that tied around her neck and was cut quite a bit lower than he would have ever expected the self-conscious Gryffindor girl to wear. But she wasn't a girl anymore, and he had realized it that day, more precisely the brief moment that her hands touched his when he had handed her the scroll that listed her accomplishments in the field of potions. Her slender fingers brushed his, sending an uncommon, unwelcome tingle down his spine.

And now he felt that same tingle as he watched her jump up from the couch, her book lying forgotten on the floor, not realizing the picture she made. Her long, baggy pajama pants in Gryffindor colors sitting far beneath her hip bones and her camisole going down to just below her navel, leaving a good two or three inches of golden skin uncovered.

As Hermione reached him, he saw many different masks of emotions pass over her face before he fell unconscious where he stood.

* * *

Hermione stared, mouth agape at the man who came through the door. It was her former potions professor, Severus Snape. Curious as to what brought him to headquarters so late at night, or early in the morning as the case may be, she rose from her place on the couch and made her way over to him, noting his somewhat disheveled appearance that peaked her curiosity even more. She reached him and caught him as his body began to fall to the floor, her hands on either side of him, wrapped around his back.

She was astounded. Her old Potions teacher had just walked in and fainted, the most weakness she had ever seen him display.

_But I guess that since he did faint he was in no condition to stop it. _She thought to herself.

This started a train of thoughts, wondering what had happened to her not-so-beloved Potions professor. Sure, they had become civil to each other once she was out of school and did not have to act as though he hated her and her friends in front of the Slytherins that she had class with, but they had never been more than civil, never friendly.

She told herself that he really did dislike her and that he really meant those things he said to her all those years she had been his student. She told herself that he didn't feel the shiver up his spine when their hands had touched when he handed her that scroll, and she told herself that she hadn't either.

But the aching in her arms brought her out of her thoughts and back into reality, and the fact that she was holding an unconscious Severus against her body. She quickly decided to take him to the couch she had just been laying on and then decided what to do from there.

Her mind made up, Hermione shifted her hands so that she had a better grip on the man and began their trip to the couch.

Upon reaching it she turned, so that she could lay him on his back. She gently leaned down, her chest against his, as she put his head on the pillow she had been using and his upper body on the sofa. Once she was sure his upper half wasn't going to fall if she let go, she took her arms from around him and lifted his feet onto the rest of the couch and settled him so that he looked as if he was just sleeping.

She bent down again, intending on untying his shoes, when realized that there was blood on her hands. Looking down at her shirt she realized that it too was stained red.

She gasped. She hadn't noticed that he was bleeding! His black robes had soaked much of the blood, but retained their dark color and she hadn't noticed the rips in them.

She turned back to him and debated with in herself as whether or not to take off his robes to see what damage had been done to him. One voice told her to wake Molly, and that she would know what to do, but another told her that she was a Potions Mistress and a Charms Professor! She should know what to do in this kind of situation, and besides, Molly had had a rough night and needed her sleep.

Hermione went with the second voice.

She lifted one of his arms and proceeded to take it out of the sleeve that covered it, noticing his long slender hands as she did so, and revealing another long black sleeve as he had a shirt on under his robes. Slipping her arm behind his back once more, she lifted his torso up and slipped his other arm from the robe, which she dropped uncaringly on the floor. After setting him back down, she went to work his shirt.

It was a long sleeved, black, button up, collared shirt that one would find on many a muggle business man. And as Hermione look at it she noticed that it had his initials, intertwining S's on the pocket, picked out in a silver thread. Right after, she noticed he had the first few buttons undone, giving her a tempting look at his pale chest.

She reached out, tentatively, her fingers shaking somewhat at the thought of un-dressing the man in front of her. What if he woke up while she was taking off his shirt? What would he think of her? Would he believe that she was just trying to help? Would he yell at her for being such an idiot as to not get help?

_Oh well_, she deiced, _what ever happens, happens._

And with that thought her fingers began to undo the buttons that held his shirt together. With every new one came more of his pale body for her to see, and once she was finished she was amazed as to what the man had been hiding beneath his billowing black robes.

While his chest was not overly muscled, he still had defined pectorals, milky white and strong. And his abdominal muscles, though not rippling and defined, were still flat and smooth despite his age, and it all left her absolutely speechless. As did the five bleed gashes that covered his abdomen.

Hermione quickly drew her wand and summoned two bowls of warm water and a cloth so that she could clean out the cuts. She dipped the cloth in on of the bowls and began to gently clean Severus's wounds.

* * *

Severus woke to a soft tickling sensation sweeping over his chest and a stinging pain on his back and stomach. Letting out a soft, almost undetectable moan, his eyes fluttered open making him aware of the curtain of slightly curly brown hair whose ends were brushing his bare chest.

Wait, his bare chest?

Severus sat up quickly, which he just as quickly regretted, causing his attendant to fall onto the floor before the couch he was laying on. He quickly took stock of all the clothes he had on, pleased that only his shirt and robe were gone and not his pants as well, before he looked to who had been caring for him.

It was Hermione. The same Hermione who had caught him when he fainted and the same Hermione who was covered in his blood. His shock that she had taken care of him was matched by her own look that he had woken up so violently.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds before the pain kicked in again and he groaned aloud, making Hermione jump up off the floor and try to push him back down onto the couch.

"Let me finish cleaning your cuts," she told him in a motherly voice she didn't know she was using, "then you can sit up."

He nodded meekly, allowing her to finish what she had started and enjoying the feel of her hands on his body as he admired her beauty.

She truly was a woman now. The curves she never thought she would acquire had finally made an appearance and she had really filled out. Her hair was no longer bushy, but had grown out with age and now fell in soft, silky ringlets down to the middle of her back. And her cinnamon eyes were framed by long black lashes that needed no make up to emphasize. Her lips were the same reddish-pink they had always been, and every now and then, when she was nervous or apprehensive, she would take the side of her full lower between her teeth, a habit that had not left her since she had left school. She was beautiful, like a goddess of the Earth from ancient times, and here she was taking care of him.

He concentrated on her touch through the whole thing, taking note that she was talking to him all the while, in that same motherly tone she had used before, but he only caught the last thing she said.

"And I would have used a spell on these, but I didn't know how you had gotten them or if there was in poison in them or anything, so I didn't want to risk it. And I don't have my potions with me or anything and I didn't want to leave you while I went up to get the few I do have with me incase you woke up or had a fit or something." She told him.

"Thank you," he said, his silky voice making her loose herself for a moment.

She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak aloud. When she finally got control of herself, and thought that she could talk with out her voice cracking, she asked him if he would stand so that she could wrap his wounds with clean cloths so he would not get infected until Madam Pomfrey had a chance to look at his injuries.

He just nodded and did as he was told by a student, for once in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stepped away as Severus swung his legs over the side of the couch and tried to stand.

He placed one hand on either side of his sitting body and tried to push himself up. He gingerly stood, making sure he had his balance before taking a tentative step forward, but the time he took for his balance was a waste. As soon as he moved his right foot his weight shifted and, for the first time since he was a child, Severus Snape began to fall.

But Hermione was standing right before him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and found herself holding him for the second time in less than that many hours. She shifted a bit so that she was grabbing her own wrists behind his back, her arms pulling the skin there together.

"Miss Granger, AHHH," Snape began, using his normal voice despite the fact that his face was right to the side of hers, making their cheeks touch and his lips rest against her ear. He had every intention to thank her for catching him, but his words ended in a sharp gasp.

"What? What's wrong?" Hermione asked her worry evident in her voice. "Oh," she exclaimed as realization dawned on her. "I'm so foolish! Your cuts! I'm so sorry Sir. I didn't mean to put you in more pain!" she rambled on as she righted him, helping him to regain his balance, unthinkingly placing her hands on his hips.

His mouth was still against her ear as he gasped again at her touch, but in pleasure instead of pain. "Miss Granger," he began again, "would you be as kind to tend to the gash on my back as you have the ones on my chest?" he asked her, desperate for anything that would get her from directly in front of him.

His silky voice reached her ears causing her to give an involuntary shudder that they both felt.

Hermione gladly obliged his request, not meeting his eyes as she removed her hands and walked around to see what else she would be cleaning. But as soon as she took her hands away, he began to sway once more.

Hermione quickly grabbed his arm to steady him again, but let go as soon as he could stand on his own.

She quickly walked over, around the couch, and took the lamp and vase off of the high table that stood behind it. She pulled on the one end of the three-and-a-half-foot tall table, dragging it around to where Snape stood, his arms out to keep his balance. She placed the table before him and gestured for him to lean onto it by putting his hands before him on the table, saving him from falling once more.

"Thank you," he muttered, adjusting his footing so that he lent over the wooden table and gave her a clear view of his wound on his back.

Hermione pulled out her wand, conjuring two bowls and a rag once more, having gotten rid of the ones she had used before. She placed her supplies on the table and turned to get her first look at what she was going to work on. She gasped in surprise at what met her gaze.

The cut was long and deep, reaching from just below his right shoulder and down to his lower left back. It cut through all of his major back muscles. If she did not clean this wound perfectly he would lose all use of his arms, the muscles to lift them residing in his upper back, and now torn to shreds.

Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, very slowly. She was amazed that he could have laid there on his back while she cleaned the cuts on his stomach. Sure he was unconscious, but still. This thing was oozing pus and had small threads of his discarded cloak that he had been laying on trapped with in it. She had to be extremely careful.

* * *

An hour and many painful yelps later the entire thing was clean.

"I'm sorry that hurt so much," Hermione told her old potions teacher. "But I wanted to make sure I got everything out of there." She conjured a long length of cloth to wrap around and to bind his cuts so they wouldn't bleed more than they already had.

"Thank you for doing this for me," Snape told her as she pulled him gently away from the table so that she could wrap his stomach and back and not have to do it around the table.

She looked up at him from her wrapping, surprised, met his eyes for the first time since he had awoken.

"I'm not so heartless as to not thank those who do me a great service," he told her, his voice silky and low in her ears.

"I don't think you're heartless at all," she replied, her gaze still on his face but her hands working nimbly, taking the cloth around and around his torso.

It was his turn to be surprised. He had been nothing but cruel to her for the ten years that he had known her and yet she still believed he was worthy of emotions?

"After all," she continued, not noticing his confusion because she had looked back down to her work, mainly so he couldn't see the blush that was creeping back onto her face. "You did work as a spy for the Order all those years. If you didn't have a heart you would have stayed on Voldemort's side and not have come to join the Order in the first place. And that you risked you life so many times for so many people that you never have and never will meet, shows you care for something, doesn't it?" she said, asking the last part as she moved around behind him so that she could wrap the top half of the cut there.

Her sudden movement brought Snape to his senses. All of them.

He could see her move around him, her hips swaying with every step, her breasts bouncing ever so slightly at the same time. He could smell her freshly washed hair, the cinnamon and apples in her shampoo taking him back to the orchard that his grandparents had had on their estate when he was a child. He could hear her every breath and every movement, the whisper of her baggy pants as her legs move forwards and back. He could feel her fingers running over his skin sending electric shocks all through his un-wanting body.

And he could taste her. He could taste what he imagined her kisses to be like. He could taste her skin and he could taste desire; whether it was hers or his own, he did not know.

"There, they're all wrapped now," she told him, once again brining him back to himself as she spoke aloud. "Just allow me to put a charm on these so they won't fall off or anything. _Vincio Umaquam_."

"Thank you again," he told her as he tried to take a step towards the door but promptly began to fall again. And again, Hermione was there to catch him.

"Sir, where are you going?" she asked. "Surely you're not leaving already. I've just bandaged your cuts and you need your rest. I know I didn't do the best job and that you'll have to see Madam Pomfrey back at Hogwarts, but you can't leave just yet-"

"Miss Granger," Snape interrupted her. "I have no plans on leaving anytime soon, I merely have to use the restroom. If you would be so kind as to assist me to the lavatory on this floor seeing as I cannot walk on my own…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Sir. I just thought that-" she answered, her cheeks turning the shade of pink they used to when she was in his class and he had just caught talking to Potter and Weasely.

"Miss Granger I am quite aware of what you thought, as you voiced it not a moment ago. But please, may we move on…"

This time she only nodded.

A few minutes later the two reached the main floor restroom that was off of the same hall as the room they had been in, only further down. The house did not look like much to the few wizards who could see it from the outside, but in; in it was much bigger.

When they finally reached it, Hermione hesitated, wondering if she should take him in there and then go back outside or if she should just let him go in there on his own. But her answer was decided for here when Snape let go of her arm that he had been using for balance and moved it to the bathroom counter that was just inside the door.

"Thank you Miss Granger, I believe I can take it from here."

"Yes Sir. Will you need my help back? Shall I wait for you?"

"Yes Miss Granger, as much as it pains me to say it I believe I will need your help back into the parlor. So yes, I would be grateful if you were to wait for me here." He told her, ignoring the pain he saw in her eyes that shone even in the dark when he told her that he wished that he did not need her help.

She gave a small nod and walked over to the opposite wall, leaning her back against it.

* * *

Hermione rested her head against the wall, letting it fall as it saw fit, as she went over the conversation she had just had with her former potions Master.

Word by word, she replayed it in her mind, the idiotic things she had said making her wince in embarrassment. It had been awful.

She had said that she didn't see him as heartless for god's sake!

Could she have made a more stupid comment? Of course the man wasn't heartless. He knew it, she knew it, but there was no reason that she needed to tell him that she knew.

She sighed in annoyance, resting one hand across her stomach, feeling the movement of it as she concentrated on her breathing. She pulled her hand away and went to take it to her eyes, to wipe them of the sleep that was beginning to cloud her vision, when she saw that the hand was dark, wet, covered in something. Even in the minimal light available Hermione could tell that something coated her palm and fingers.

She looked down to her stomach and gulped audibly.

Her shirt had absorbed Snape's blood as she had tended to him. When she rested her hand on her stomach, it had been on top of her shirt, which was so saturated that it had given her hand something to take back with it: a thick coating of the red liquid.

"Shit," Hermione muttered under her breath. "This is never going to come out." While mourning the loss of her form fitting shirt, she came to the conclusion that it needed to be seen to right away.

She sighed as she pulled the tank-top over her head, careful to avoid contact between the blood-soaked fabric and her face or any other areas of her skin, leaving her in the black bra she had been wearing beneath it.

She held the shirt out in front of her, debating whether or not it was worth the energy that it would cost to cast the cleaning spell. So lost in thought was she that she did not hear the door to the bathroom open once more; nor did she see her former Potions Professor's eyes widen at the sight of her in the dimly lit hall.

* * *

Severus closed the door forcefully behind him, muttering incoherent things about not liking to be helped beneath his breath.

He leaned hard on the white marble counter top that was laced with black lines throughout, thinking of how he had offended the woman who had been kind enough to help him.

The small flash of pain in her eyes when he had said that he resented the need of her help had sent a large pang of guilt to his heart, but not before it passed through the rest of his body first. The result left him shaking in regret.

_Why do I feel thus?_ Snape asked himself when the tremors stopped. _What is it about this girl that has me captured so? However much I am grateful to her for the work she did to keep me alive, it should not result in these overwhelming emotions that plague me._

_The girl is barely more than a child; I cannot allow myself to feel for her in this way. I have spent the decade I have known her using her as if she was a stone to sharpen the blade of my tongue. All those years I insulted her before her peers, before her enemies, before her friends. I felt no remorse then. She did not seem effected then._

_So why is it now, that when I just state the fact that I abhor the need of anyone's help, she takes it personally? And why is it now that I wish I could take the pain from her eyes_.

Snape shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts that kept streaming through. He took care of what he had walked into the lavatory for in the first place with only some small difficulties. Once he was finished he took a hand full of water and splashed it over his face, cleansing his haggard appearance somewhat.

Sighing once again he prepared himself to face Hermione anew, his thoughts still confused but in a better order than they had been when she had been standing so near. Thoughts of ignoring the sprouting feelings for the girl were immediately pushed into the very far reaches of his mind when he opened the door.

She stood before him, wearing nothing above her hips but a lacy black bra that exposed more than it covered.

Shock gripped him at the sight of her, leaving him paralyzed, unable to move from the door frame. As the effects of the shock slowly wore off, Severus realized that she had not noticed that he was there at all. He took that un-knowingly granted time to study what the girl, now woman, had hid beneath her robes for all of those years. He imagined himself to be the first to ever see what the top half of her body truly looked like.

Her abdomen was flat, as was his, but where his was from the genes of his ancient family, it was obvious that hers came from many sit-ups and crunches; the lines that separated each of her muscles from the others told that tale.

And her breasts, which he had noted before as having filled out, were shown to him; tantalizing him with the sight of the tops of their globes, their gently sloping curves. He longed to touch them, to cup one of them in his palm, knowing that it would rest perfectly there, fitting like the missing piece of a puzzle.

His eyes traveled ever upward, admiring her long and graceful neck before coming to rest on her face, her beautifully angelic face. She truly seemed to be other worldly. The way her hair fell down her back in it's dark brown ringlets made it look like a silken waterfall, even in the dark of the corridor where little light flickered upon the walls. Her eyes shone brightly here in the dark too, giving off a light of their own as looked forward beneath a knit brow, studying a problem from all angles as he had seen her do many times both as his student and as his equal in the war.

How he wished to hold her then and there, to feel every curve of her body, seen and unseen, pressed against his own.

The image in his mind was too much; the thought of that particular sensation was too much. Once again he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but only succeeded in jumbling his thoughts some more.

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself into a state of calmness before he opened them once more to find her still standing there without a shirt. Well that wasn't true, now that he studied the entirety of the picture she made. The look of deep concentration he had seen in her eyes was fixed upon her shirt, which she held out at arms length, seeing it but seeing though it.

He looked at it as well and soon saw the problem she did: the small piece of white fabric looked as if it had been seeped in blood, his blood. The realization of how much blood he had lost made Severus stagger, causing him to grasp onto the door frame for support.

Hermione was at his side in an instant, her shirt still in her hand, but now dangling at her side in stead of straight out before her as it had been. Her other arm was quickly wrapped around his waist, holding him up as she had done so many other times that night.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, concern evident in her gentle voice. The voice that made him think of a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the orchard she smelled like.

_Yes, I'm perfectly fine_ Snape thought to himself. _If we could stay like this forever, that would be marvelous._

"Yes Miss Granger, I believe I will be fine, but only if you put your shirt back on."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I had forgotten."

This simple statement made Severus want to weep. If she was that comfortable with her body as to not be embarrassed when found half naked by a former teacher… he was not the first to see her such. Any woman with that much comfort and confidence in herself gained it only by the recognition she received from others who had seen her. Their approval would have made her at home with in herself.

Anger boiled with in him at the thought of her showing herself to either Potter or Weasley. They did not have the right to such a beautiful creature. They could not hope to match her intelligence and did not deserve to even be near her. She was one unto herself, a matched equal to all but equaled by none.

**_That means you have no claim to her soul either_**, the analytical side of his mind sneered at him.

"Here, I will help you back to the parlor and then get another shirt to cover myself with since it makes you uncomfortable. Come on," she told him as she gently led him forward, step by step.

She was going to recover herself because she was making him uncomfortable, not because she was herself. At that he saw her in a new light, one with radical differences than what he had watched her in before.

Three minutes later they reached the parlor, Severus feeling weaker than a new born kitten from his exhaustion of the muscles that had been injured in his fight against the Death Eaters' children.

Hermione gently placed him down on the couch, removing his arm from around her shoulders as she eased him onto the sofa.

"Now hold a moment Professor, and I'll be back shortly," she told him as she made to leave him in order to find herself a new shirt.

"Miss Granger, I only suggested that you replace your shirt because I was under the impression that it would be embarrassing for you to be seen in nothing but you're undergarments by a man more than twice your age who could also be your father. If you choose not to do so, then so be it," he told her, grabbing her wrist as she made to leave, an effort not without its consequences. The muscles in his back screamed in agony, but he made the gesture anyway.

She gave him a small smile as she turned back to him, going back to her task of seeing to her patient's comfort.

Hermione made him lay back down onto the cushions and made him gasp when she leaned over him to place the blanket she had conjured over his shoulders, presenting him with an amazing view of her breasts that he so admired.

"Try and get some rest Sir," she told him, standing back up and beginning to cross the room. "Tomorrow I will take you to see Madame Pomfrey myself, but until then, you need your sleep."

"And will you be staying the night with me?"

He had not intended on asking her that aloud. He quickly dropped his gaze and looked down at the green and silver blanket she had place over him.

"Yes, I had planned on it, in case you had a fit or some other type of need of medical assistance. Unless of course you object Sir." She told him, settling herself into a hard, straight backed wooden chair, holding herself rigidly.

"I do not object to you staying Miss Granger, but I do object to you staying in that chair. You need your rest as well as I do, more so since I was asleep while you tended to me."

"Then what do you suppose we do Sir? That couch is not large enough for the both of us."

He chuckled in spite of himself. The only way that the couch would hold the two of them was if she had lain on his chest which was a) not probable and b) never going to happen because of the cuts she had cleaned from that very chest.

"No Miss Granger, the couch will not hold us both, but a bed would. Why not put to use your Transfiguration skills, eh?" he asked, raising an eye brow at her as he did so.

She gave him a small smile as she brandished her wand and waved it in a quick, complex pattern as she muttered the spell beneath her breath.

The result was a simple, yet extremely comfortable bed, with white silk sheets beneath a dark green comforter. Severus was on the couch as it changed, causing him to feel a few strange sensations through the spell, but in the end it left him laying on the pillows that rested against the simple oak head board of the king sized bed.

"Well done Miss Granger. Now if I may add something of my own?" he asked her, reaching for his wand which now laid on a table that had once been on one end of the couch. He quickly cast a barrier spell that split the bed in half, shimmering like a mist down the center of the mist before fading form sight.

"What was that?" Hermione asked him as she sat on her side of the large bed.

"The Gift of the Elves charm. It is a barrier that allows no one to cross but those who love one another. Since we harbor no such feelings for each other, I thought it to be the best spell for this case, so we do not bump into each other through out the night."

_LIAR,_ his mind screamed. _You may not have those feelings yet, but you're extremely close to them. And you do not know what she feels, though it **is** doubtful that she feels the same.

* * *

Hermione nodded in interest as she slipped between the covers and settled her head onto her pillows, he back facing her former teacher as she puzzled how he knew of a Charm she had not learned of in her training._

Her thoughts lead her into sleep and then back out, guiding her complete awareness. Completely aware of the strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist.


	3. Chapter 3

**Right so, this might be the last chapter of this story or it might not be. I'm really not to sure what to do with it. I had so many plans for it before I read the 6th book. But I know that they won't work now, but I don't know if I want to continue a story that doesn't match the books, at all. So, while I'm still in shock over Snape killing Dumbledore, and debating whether or not to continue… I made this chapter extra long for you guys.**

* * *

Severus had thought she look beautiful in the moonlight, but the picture she made then was nothing compared to what the early morning sunlight did to her.

The hair that had seemed dark brown in the candle light was now punctured with gems of amber, honey, maple and even some red. Her skin which he had thought to be pale last night was practically golden, shining exactly like the metal would have in true light.

He stored that information into the far reaches of his mind, knowing that if he was ever to buy her jewelry it need to be silver, as gold would only serve blend into her skin, leaving the pendant or jewel hanging from it looking as if it was tethered by air alone.

He gently pulled away from her, but kept his arms around her waist.

Wait. His arms around her waist?

_When did this happen? How did this happen?_ Severus thought to himself. _Would she ever let me get this close to her if she was awake?_

Pushing away all of his questions on how he had gotten into such an intimate position with his beautiful former student, he removed one arm from her waist a moment after he pulled away.

A spot of black on the woman's shoulder he hadn't noticed in the dark last night captured his attention. He took his long hands and began to trace the spot with a delicate finger tip.

He was wrong, the farther he pulled away the larger the 'spot' became. Finally, after have removed himself from her warmth enough, Severus Snape figured out what the spot was.

Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all of Hogwarts for seven years, the smartest witch Hogwarts—hell the world—had ever seen, a former bushy haired child before she became a modest woman, had a tattoo.

And not just any tattoo. One that marked her as a member of the Raven's Guild.

* * *

Hermione felt the warmth of the owner of the long arms that wrapped around her pull away slightly, then more so, taking one of the arms with them.

She shivered slightly in the early morning light, realizing that she had no shirt on, like she normally did when she awoke in the morning, and that the blankets were not covering her completely. Even the warmth of the sun's rays that filtered through the parlor's window and rested directly on her face did little to warm her.

But her shiver became a shudder when the arm that had been wrapped around her began to trace her most prized possession with a phantom like caress.

A gentle fingertip lightly brushed over the ink stain on her right shoulder, out lining the image there. The image of a raven on the up-sweep of it's wings holding a bleeding black rose in it's talons. The image that she had gotten when she was inducted into the Raven's Guild, the most secret potions-revolving society in the world.

* * *

Severus felt her shiver beneath his touch, but wasn't sure whether or not to take it as a sign of wakefulness or not. He decided he would see if she was truly awake.

"Miss Granger," he began unconsciously in the deadly whisper he used when he was reprimanding the most idiotic of his students.

A small groan escaped her lips and he took it as permission to continue. Wait, since when did he need permission to do anything?

"Where and when did you acquire that inking?" he asked her, not changing his voice.

All tattoo artists in the world had been instructed never put that particular design into anyone's skin. They had been threatened with the pain of death had they ever decided to ignore the instructions. And, just for an extra precautionary measure, there had been a spell placed on the design, making anyone, muggle or magical, who found the design interesting, lose interest in it.

"My initiation," she muttered sleepily before she tried, and failed to suppress a yawn as she turned over to absorb his warmth once more, curling herself into a ball while her head rested gently on his shoulder.

Snape was completely shocked. A) She was a beautiful young woman and was currently cuddling up to him like he was a teddy bear, and B) This chit had been brought into the prominent Raven's Guild? For what?

In order for one to even be contacted by the Raven's Guild you had to have made some larger than life discovery in the field of potions. He had been contacted a few times with some of the different potions he had made himself, but it wasn't until he completed his Wolfsbane potion that he was inducted into the Guild. And that had only been seven years ago! He had been the youngest member ever brought into the Guild and he was 33 at the time, receiving his own tattoo beneath his left hip. This slip of a girl was merely twenty years old and who knew how long she had been a member!

"And when, Miss Granger, was you initiation?" he asked once he had found his voice.

"Six months ago," she told him, pulling her head off of his shoulder and placing it on the pillows next his so they were facing each other.

"And why were you initiated?"

"I figured out a way to make the effects of the Wolfsbane potion permanent."

With a single sentence Severus Snape felt as if his entire world had crashed down around him.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes, marveling at what his voice was doing to her. Like a silky caress it comforted her as well as excited her.

She slowly opened eyes when his voice didn't answer hers.

The sight that met her eyes scared her more than anything ever had. Snape's face was white, she would even go far enough to call it a snow white. His eyes were wide and his breathing shallow.

"Professor?" she asked tentatively, worried. "Are you alright, Professor?"

She was concerned, after all, he had been through an enormous ordeal last night, and had lost a LOT of blood, as her abandoned shirt testified.

**Last night.**

Last night Snape had cast a charm on the bed that would prevent them from knocking into each other, for both the sake of professionalism and for the fact that Snape's chest and back still needed to be healed. And yet, they had awoken with his arms around her and their legs tangled beneath the sheets.

_I'll figure that one out later, _Hermione thought to herself, more concerned that Snape looked like death than the fact that his spell hadn't worked properly.

"Please say something, Professor." She almost begged of him as she propped her self up on her arm, leaning over her former teacher. Her eyes quickly searched his entire countenance, searching for some sign that would lead her to discovering exactly what had put him in such a state.

"Why did no one inform me of your initiation?" he ground out through clenched teeth after a few more moments of silence, regaining some of his color due to the anger he felt coursing through his veins; which was also responsible his quick change in demeanor.

Hermione let out a soft sigh upon hearing his statement, her body releasing much of its tension and lowering itself slightly closer to Snape's body that still lay beneath her. He wasn't in pain, just miffed that he hadn't been told something he deemed important. She was slightly flattered that he even cared; of course she had no idea as to his real reason behind the question.

"To be perfectly honest, Sir, no one knows."

"That, Miss Granger, is a lie." He told her simply. Her cries of protest were cut off with a glare from his onyx colored eyes, effectively silencing the barrage of opposing opinions and questions as to what he meant. "Obviously the Grandmaster of the Guild knows, or does he no longer swear his new members in?"

"Well, yes, Sir, but-"

"But what, Miss Granger? Was the entire guild there for your ceremony?"

"Well, yes. All who could attend, some didn't, but all were invited."

Hermione was thoroughly confused now. Firstly, there was the fact that Snape knew about the Raven's Guild.

_Oh please you idiot, did you really think that he wasn't a part of it? you do recall all of the advances he has made in Potions over the years. _A voice in her head chided her. but there wasn't a moments silence between it and the next voice.

**_If that's the case, then why did he ask why no one told him?_**

_He is a Potions_ Master. _Is there any reason he wouldn't be included?_

**_Okay, I'll give you that he's a member, I haven't seen him at any of the meetings, but then again, I don't see anyone there. Everyone wears their hoods so damn low!_**

Giving herself a mental shake to rid herself of her pestering conscience, Hermione pondered what it had said. Her mind going light years per second, she realized that the voices were right. She had absolutely no idea who anyone in the Guild was. No one did, except the Grandmaster.

At every meeting, all members in attendance were robed from head to toe, deep hoods keeping their faces in shadow and hiding all but their lips. They were much like the Death Eaters in that way, granted they didn't always wear black, had no need of masks, and NEVER went on killing sprees. But the robes were thick and made even gender difficult to discern. The only way Hermione could tell some females form the males were their color choices. The robes they had all been issued were theirs to color as they willed.

Though since most involved in Potions were more accustomed to the darkness rather than the light, all choose dark colors to dye their cloth. Hermione's were a deep emerald green, so dark it sometimes seemed to be black, which matched the nail polish that appeared on her fingers when she donned the robe.

So it was completely plausible that she had just never noticed him at the gatherings. But that still didn't explain why he didn't know she was a member of the Guild.

"That is a lie as well, Miss Granger." He answered her quickly, all of her thoughts having taken place in the blink of an eye, a deep, penetrating, black eye.

This time Hermione didn't even bother to question him.

After laying in silence for a few moments she decided to give in.

"How so, Professor?"

"I was not invited."

* * *

No, he hadn't been invited. Not to her ceremony or to gods knew how many meetings, and all of it was her fault.

She had taken his potion, his master piece if you will, and tinkered with it. She took his work and turned it into her own, fixing the mistakes he had made when he had devised the potion, his own goal having been to make its effects permanent.

And since the work that allowed him to join the guild had been improved upon, no one in the said guild felt any inclination to keep him there; unless, of course, he came up with something better. That was how it worked.

He was pissed as hell. He hated her. He wanted to hurt her. He was in awe of her. He was in love with her.

He slowly opened his eyes, having closed them after the last thing he told her. The sight that met him made his body tense and his eyes widen.

The girl—no, woman, was almost lying directly on top of him! She was hovering just a few centimeters over his chest, her face so close that he could see every detail in perfect focus. Despite the fact that he just been thrown out of the Raven's Guild because of her, Snape couldn't help but to think of what those lips would feel like covering his own.

Staring into her cinnamon eyes made him forget everything that had just transpired, capturing and holding him there until she decided to let him go. At the moment those eyes held a confused, unfocused look, and Severus could she her mind working behind them. And then that confused gaze was replaced by a determined one, one that Severus knew demanded answers.

Hermione opened her rose petal lips as if to say something, only to be cut off by the sound of metal striking metal; causing both of them to turn their heads towards the door.

* * *

The noise brought Hermione back into reality, realizing that the two of them were not the only ones in the house.

How unfortunate.

Shaking her head slightly, she gave the man beneath her a look that told him that she would get her answers later while she covertly memorized the position he was in.

Knowing she would never see Hogwarts's Potions Master beneath her again, Hermione burned the image into her mind.

His silky, not greasy, black hair was strewn all about his head, most of it covering the pillow while a few strands brushed his forehead. His face was pale, as always, but had a healthy glow when seen in the sunlight. His deep onyx eyes shone up at her, expressing fleeting emotions so quickly she couldn't discern exactly what they were. She longed to take her fingertips and trace his overly large nose then trailing them down to his lips.

Seeing him like this made her regret accepting a dinner invitation for that night.

But it was foolishness. She would never get the chance to make her feelings known to the reclusive Potion's Master. He would never give her the chance.

Indulging in a mental sigh since it would seem suspicious if she were to do so aloud, Hermione rolled away of him before she maneuvered herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed; a position from which she could easily reach her wand. Which was exactly what she did. Muttering a small incantation under her breath resulted in an overly large red shirt to appear in her awaiting hands.

"Professor," she began as she stood and turned to him, the shirt still in her hands and not on her body. "Would you like me to get you some breakfast that Molly is undoubtedly cooking at the moment?"

"No, Miss Granger, I am perfectly content with out needing to be poisoned my Mrs. Weasley's atrocious attempt at preparing a meal." He answered her, the sneer heard in his voice but not seen on his face.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I suppose I should not have made that a question," she told him coldly, miffed that her search for new knowledge had been cut short and that fact that he had been so evasive in response to her silent questioning of him.

"I _will_ be getting food for you, and you _will_ eat it. You lost a large amount of blood last night and you, with my help, will do everything within your power to ensure that the blood that is remaining in your body is in the proper condition." She said primly as she fell back into, what he would later call, 'healer mode'.

"Miss Granger, how, pray tell, do you expect to go get anything without a shirt on?" he asked her, trying to lighten her mood as well as acknowledge the point she had made, a very uncharacteristic gesture.

"I have my shirt right here, thank you," she told him stiffly as she tried, and barely succeeded to keep a smile from tugging at the corners of her lips.

"And what good will it do you in your hand when one of your idiotic friends comes through the door in search of you, only to find us both bare chested?" he joked with her, a smile of his own softening his usual hard, cold features.

"Sir, do you honestly believe I don't do every thing for a reason?" she asked him cryptically.

Her only answer was an extremely out of place, slightly confused look on the potions professor's face.

"I chose this room to read in last night because it is almost never used, except by my self. If anyone had been awake last night, they would not have come in here. The fact that people are now awake doesn't change that. Unless someone plans to leave by the means of the front door, there is no real reason anyone would see us. And even then it isn't probable. Most people don't pay that much attention to their surroundings, just the object that has their interest for the moment."

* * *

Severus was amazed at her logic, although he realized that he shouldn't have been. After all, he was talking to Hermione Granger.

But the way she had reasoned things out had him agreeing completely.

It was true that the parlor room that they were occupying was rarely, if ever, frequented; he himself had only been in it less than a handful of times. And it was true that since the room was at the front of the house, and since the kitchen was at the back, no one had any business walking past it unless they were heading towards the front door. And it was unusual for anyone to be using the door seeing as most of the wizards and witches occupying the house used the fireplace or Apparition as means of transportation.

"Alright, Miss Granger, I leave you to do with me as you will," he sighed.

_And if you want my suggestions on what we should do, I would be glad to offer them._ he thought to himself as he watched Hermione pull the large shirt over her head, covering her awe inspiring body.

"Like I needed your permission," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll do what I want with you when I want to."

He wondered if that held a double meaning.

* * *

An hour and a half and very few concerned questions later, Severus and Hermione found themselves on the path leading from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts.

"I honestly don't understand why Dumbledore decided to keep the Floo network at Hogwarts within. I mean, sure, it was for safety and all during the war. It made sense then. But it's almost been four years now! It's just not practical!" Hermione ranted as she lead Severus—who was leaning on her for support—up the dirt road that was normally traversed by carriages.

"Miss Granger, the Headmaster does what he chooses to because he feels like it. No one is expected to, or ever will, understand every little thing the man does," Snape answered her, supporting himself as much as he could.

"Yes well—"

"Well what?"

"Oh, never mind. We're here." She told him shortly, opening to doors to her old school. "Now let's get you up to the Hospital Wing."

* * *

Severus sighed.

His healing had gone well, Madam Pomfrey had said that if Hermione had not done such a meticulous job of cleaning his wounds, it would have been much more painful and a much longer process.

As it was, the process took all of ten minutes. Eight of which the hospital's matron spent trying to rid Severus of the bandages Hermione had place on him the night before.

But Hermione had used a spell she had learned amongst her travels, and thus neither the over caring nurse or he himself was able to get the cloth strips to pry themselves from his body.

Finally, Pomfrey called the young woman into the curtained area he had been placed in. And in a voice that excepted no refute, the older woman demanded that the talented witch remove her curse from her patient.

Severus felt the sides of his lips quirk at the memory. Hermione had given him a mischievous smile while the medic had her back turned to the pair, as if to say 'If that's what was taking so long, why the hell didn't you ask for my help sooner?'

He had simply shaken his head, wondering the same thing.

Once the spell had been removed, Madam Pomfrey had taken all of thirty seconds to heal his cuts after examining them for infections and poisons with a wave of her wand. The last sixty seconds of the ten minutes was spent drinking potions to replenish the blood he had lost the night before.

Then the Healer had bustled out of the makeshift room, leaving the two potion masters to them selves.

He had said something beneath his breath, degrading the woman who had just left them and expressing his annoyance at being coo-ed over. And apparently Hermione had caught the comment and found it exceedingly witty.

He couldn't tell you what he had said, but the next few moments he would remember forever.

_"Would you be too terribly upset if I was to ruffle your hair, Professor?" she had asked him. _

"_No, Miss Granger, I would not be 'too terribly upset' as you put it. I would be absolutely livid." He had answered. _

_She had grinned at him before she reached out and ran her small and delicate hand through his hair. _

_Growling playfully, Severus had captured the offending hand in his own, much larger one, and brought it to his lips, leaving a light kiss when he pulled away. _

She had ruffled his hair, something no one had ever done to him in his entire forty years. And he had not yelled or glared or punished her for it. Instead, he had kissed her. Yes, it was just her hand, but it was still a part of her, and he had as good as told her that he adored her. He was such a fool.

But she had smiled at him, that amazing full and warming smile that made all doubts he held within himself disappear. She had stayed with him after that, just talking of few and random things. Neither brought up the Raven's Guild and neither brought up the war.

They had spent much of the day in that way. Through the late morning and all throughout the afternoon, they had even begun to progress into the evening when she had realized what time it was.

She had to leave, she explained. She had promised a male friend from the university that she would have dinner with him that evening, she explained.

So she had left.

So she had left him.

* * *

Severus was reading on the black leather couch he had had positioned in his sitting room, somewhat depressed that Hermione had had to leave, when she knocked hesitantly on his door.

He was only made aware of the fact that he had nothing on but a pair of black silk pajama pants when he opened the said door to admit her. The first thought he had when he saw her was astonishment. When he had seen her last night, he had thought her beautiful. But here, now, she was a vision.

If he was to say that her dress was a simple cut he would have been lying. The black material had no straps to keep it up and clung tightly to the slender woman's frame. Across her stomach were small bunches of fabric, gathered at the side seams of the dress, and showed how thin she really was. In the front it fell to just below her knees, but angled down from there to stop in a point, at her heels in the back. The entire dress had intricate designs picked out in pink sparkles covering it in many different places.

Her hair, which he had admired when it was left to itself, captivated him when she had put some effort into it. All but two of the brown ringlets were pulled back, away from her face, still allowed to fall down her back. The two that had not been secured by a black, pink jeweled clip, fell delicately down both sides of her face, brushing their tendrils against her smooth cheeks.

"Professor?" she asked timidly.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, quite concerned that there were tears running down her face. He impulsively grabbed her arm and pulled her in from the corridor.

"What is it Miss Granger?" he asked his voice not masking the emotions swirling inside of him upon seeing her like this.

"Please, Professor, answer my question, and please do it honestly." She said, her voice betraying her as his had done.

"Miss Granger, when have I ever answered your questions?" he asked her, trying to lift her spirits, and, in turn, his own, as he lead her to the couch he had sat on moments before.

"Please, Professor," she pleaded, her eyes begging him to agree.

"Very well, Miss Granger, ask me what ever you must," he told her as made to move away, but her next words stopped all motion.

"Professor, if you we're to base your opinion of me solely on my looks, what would you're opinion be?" she asked, admitting the reason she was in his private chambers.

"Miss Granger, why is this nessac-" he began, turning back toward her.

"Please, just answer it, sir."

"Very well, Miss Granger," he said, positioning himself so that he was kneeling on the ground directly before her.

Taking her hands in his own, Severus looked directly into her eyes, willing her to see the truth that he was about to infuse into his words.

"You are not a classic beauty, Miss Granger, nor will you ever be. But that doesn't mean you are without beauty." He began, figuring it would be best to tell her exactly what he thought of her. Beginning from the top down.

"Your hair, which used to be so bushy and did not have much appeal, has matured as you have grown older, as has the rest of your person. It no longer seems as if it would scratch anyone daring enough to wrap their arms around you and rest their head on top of your own. No it is not like that at all, now it is quite beautiful, a very complimenting shade to your skin and, I imagine, very silky in texture. It flows magnificently down your back in wonderfully loose curls, that I am sure many a woman would be envious of, as it catches and reflects the light, making it shine ever more.

"Your skin is a golden shade that puts the metal to shame when the sun hits it. It is wonderfully smooth and taught over all areas of your body. It makes many men, who have never been jealous of anything in their lives, wish that they could trade places with it, so that they might feel your every move.

"Your arms are muscled, although not openly like your friends'. From all the books that you carry, it is no small wonder. When you reach for an ingredient it is made obvious that your body is in the best shape it has ever been.

"Your hands are long, graceful and elegant, just as a Potions Mistress's should be. Your fingers are long and thin, perfectly shaped. To watch your hands when you make a potion, it would be indistinguishable from spending time in ones own sweet nirvana.

"Your chest, which has matured considerably since you left school here, has grown to just the size to fit your body. Not overly large, but neither are they too small. They give you quite a curvy figure that, I am sure, has many men, young and old, lusting after you.

"Your stomach, of course, is flat. Unlike many of your peers, you always have, and I assume, will always seemingly be, underweight. That is the illusion that your slight body brings to mind. Too small for her own good. But of course you are not. You are just the perfect weight for yourself. And you never have been one to fall into any one category, so how could anyone judge you?

"It seems as if ones eyes could travel down your legs for days and never reach the ends. They, like your arms, are muscled, but it is not obvious until one sees you run, or jump, or even walk up a flight of stairs.

"Your face is wonderfully shaped, not completely round and not completely oval. It gives you the look of a regal queen, the way you hold your head high.

"Your nose is small, in comparison to some, but suits your face perfectly. It is just the right size to compliment your features in a way no other shape or size would.

"Your lips too, are perfect for your face. Though your lower lip is slightly more full than your upper, they are beautiful in both smiles and frowns. The slight curves of the corners of those lips makes a man willing to give anything to see you smile in full.

"Sinfully long lashes brush your cheeks when you close your amazing eyes. Astonishing in color, a cinnamon brown that is all your own, they give the appearance of innocence, but if one was to look deeper into them, they would find a thirst for knowledge that lays just beneath the surface."

* * *

"Perfectly chiseled by a master sculptor, you, Miss Granger, Hermione, are beautiful." He finished, having looked into her eyes throughout his monologue, assuring her that he did not need to look at her now to tell her of her beauty. Making it known that he had looked at her, studied her, many times before.

And Hermione knew, with certainty, that with every example he had given, such as a man wishing to trade places with her skin, he had been talking about himself. About what he wanted.

"Oh Severus," Hermione whispered, burying her face in the crook of his body where his neck met his torso and throwing her arms around him.

Severus sat back on his heels, taking the sobbing Hermione Granger with him, simply holding her in his arms. He stroked her hair, relishing the feel of it beneath his finger tips, as he tried to calm her. He murmured whatever he could think of into her ear, wishing that she would become calm enough to talk to him.

Finally she lifted her head, but did not move it away from his. "Thank you, Severus," she whispered into his left ear, in a voice that he knew she had not tried to make seductive. And yet it was. And what it did to him….

The memories of the night before, and the charm he had placed on their shared bed came back to him. Despite what Hermione had believed upon waking, the spell had worked perfectly, no one else would have been able to touch either of them. But they had been allowed to touch each other because the boundaries of the spell stated that the people involved must love each other.

And Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were soulmates.

And now, they knew it.

"Miss Granger," he began as he stood from the floor, the object of his affections still wrapped within his arms. "Do you feel well enough to make your way home?"

"No, Professor," she told him, her hysterics over and an impish gleam in her eyes. "I don't believe I can make it back."

"Very well then Miss Granger, you must stay here." He told her, his voice stern but his eyes dancing wit an unusual light.

"Very well, Professor," she told him, equally somber—in tone and gaze.

And with that, her arms still wrapped about his neck and his arms supporting her small frame, Severus carried Hermione into his bedroom.

* * *

The next morning Hermione awoke to a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist. But this time she knew exactly what the arms were doing there. 


End file.
